


touch and go

by jenhyung



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 11:45:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13786977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenhyung/pseuds/jenhyung
Summary: Jaehyun loves in touch. Youngho is trying to do his best. – Jaehyun / Youngho (College!AU)





	touch and go

**Author's Note:**

> 8k+ of i just wanted to write some break up make up sex… don’t read too deep into this… i’ve been stuck on this for so long i had to finish it else i wouldn’t be able to write anything else… i don’t really like it but what’s new… un-betaed, un-good, sorry and actual warnings of alcohol consumption and bad decisions

Jaehyun winces when he hears the alert on his phone go off.

Again.

There isn’t much left in him to deal with whatever the alarm wants him to deal with, not today, at least.

Classes were downright terrible; professors hounding him left and right for assignments, group projects with due dates so close Jaehyun was stunned at how he didn’t see any of them coming. Work was worse; someone had spilled a cup coffee right after he’d handed it to them, and if cleaning up the Venti-sized frappuccino wasn’t enough, it got all over his shirt and jeans and arms and ankles and sneakers, leaving him completely soaked through.

All he wants to do is get home, strip, and go to bed.

No cakes, no balloons, no gifts, nothing.

But of course, walking into the apartment blindsided would rack up more harm than anything else, so he does check,

_1000 Days Together with Youngho!_

The alarm is decked out with hearts and confetti images.

Jaehyun groans to himself, guilt plunging deeper into his heart.

By far was he someone who didn’t enjoy romance; when they’d first started dating, he’d showed up to every single one of Youngho’s college basketball league games with a handful of flowers, arranged and everything, the works. After a few games, however, Youngho had to politely and regretfully ask him to stop when the commentators started referring to him as ‘flower boy’ whilst on court, messing up the team’s rhythm every time Youngho turned to find his boyfriend in the stands with a fresh bouquet of flowers.

He loved Youngho to the moon and back; went to every photography exhibition he was featured in, listened to every college radio show he guested on, signed up for every talk he spoke for in college and public settings. (Youngho was a textbook overachiever.)

More than that, in his own way, Jaehyun loved in touches; he needed to have Youngho around him all the time. It felt a lot like a safe hold, like he could take on anything if he just had Youngho’s hand in his, and Youngho was more than happy to provide that. Every brush of their knuckles, every kiss on the cheek, every bump of their hips made Jaehyun’s heart swell.

Touch, Jaehyun loved so much in touch.

Youngho, however, loved in giving, in planning, in time.

And Youngho _loved_ Jaehyun.

It’s different.

Every fifteenth of every month, Youngho still gifted Jaehyun with a special night out to commemorate their relationship. Expensive dinners or romantic picnics, Youngho would plan them all, and Jaehyun would feel himself crumple with each and every one. At one point, Jaehyun had brought up the fact that they’d been dating for _two_ years now, it shouldn’t be necessary to be celebrating every month together as if they were still in high school. The point was met with a frown and a cold shoulder, and Youngho’d gotten so hurt that Jaehyun swore to himself that he’d never bring it up ever again.

It’s just – Jaehyun could never keep up. He couldn’t compete with the flowers, the cooking, the surprises, the letters, the love. It’s not a competition, he knows it himself, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling like the most incompetent boyfriend in the world. Youngho cares and cares and _cares_ , and Jaehyun loves it, he basks in it, but he wants to be able to make Youngho feel the same way, but on some days, like today, he isn’t sure if he’ll ever be enough for Youngho.

 

The knob to their apartment looks more daunting than it’s ever been, and Jaehyun sucks in a deep breath before walking in, empty handed and positively reeking of shame.

It’s the sight of helium balloons that greets him first, crowding against the ceiling in various shades of white, off-white, pearl, ivory, his favourite colours. Dinner on the table is next; slow roasted beef on a metal tray, surrounded by an array of potatoes and bell peppers and onions and carrots and five other dishes, probably. Beside it, a card awaits too, his name written in Youngho’s perfect cursive, almost jeering at Jaehyun as he looks back down at his self, lack of presents or balloons or Youngho’s favourite doughnuts he could’ve so easily picked up on the way home.

Why didn’t he pick any up?

_Not enough._

“Surprise, baby.”

A pair of arms wind themselves around Jaehyun’s waist, and he twists in them to kiss Youngho automatically, mind whirring for an excuse, for a reason, for _something_ to explain why he’s forgotten such a milestone between them. He lets his bag roll off his shoulder as he spins to kiss Youngho proper, eyes fluttering shut at the press of his boyfriend’s soft lips. Licking the seam impatiently, Jaehyun takes his boyfriend’s cheeks in his hands, willing the guilt away even as Youngho opens up for him.

“I’m guessing you like it,” Youngho laughs, unwittingly thumbing the edge of Jaehyun’s coffee soaked jeans. “Happy thousandth day together, Jae.” With another kiss, “I love you.”

“I – didn’t get you anything,” Jaehyun wraps his arms around Youngho’s neck, hiding his remorse, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Youngho plants a kiss on his crown. The happiness in his voice makes Jaehyun’s gut tighten. “I got us both covered.” Before Jaehyun can question it, “Got us tickets to that _Beauty and the Beast_ musical you wanted to see.”

Again. _Again_ , Youngho is doing his best. Jaehyun doesn’t ever recall mentioning the musical more than twice, and both times in passing. Did he even know what _Youngho_ would want to do on his free days? What he would want as a gift? Where he would want to go?

Did Jaehyun really know anything at all?

Jaehyun pulls away from Youngho, his smell, his _warmth_ , fingers digging into broad shoulders, “What do you mean?”

“Hm?” Youngho tilts his head, smiling, _still_ smiling, down at Jaehyun. He brushes the hair out of Jaehyun’s eyes, “The musical’s at eight, so we’ve to be out of here in, like, – ” he checks his wristwatch, “ – an hour?”

“No,” Jaehyun’s cheeks start to prickle. How could he treat Youngho this way? Youngho deserves more.

Has he realized it too?

Jaehyun is tired.

“What did you mean by having us both covered?”

Did he already assume Jaehyun would forget? Was it that obvious that he was going to?

Youngho blinks, and his eyes narrow for a split second, as if assessing Jaehyun’s questioning. He’s always read Jaehyun like an open book,

“I meant,” he takes Jaehyun by the hands, speaking slow, “I planned a night where we could both do what we wanted to do. Me, just dinner. You, the musical.” Youngho grins, “Not that I’m any less excited for it, I mean. I haven’t gotten _Be Our Guest_ out of my head since I booked the tickets two weeks ago.”

Two weeks ago.

Jaehyun can’t swallow the rock in his throat. He yanks his hands free of Youngho’s hold, ignoring the confused look sent his way before he turns to stalk into the living room. His heart is pounding, and his ears are burning, the tears are going to spill because Jaehyun feels so _inadequate_.

“Jaehyun? What’s going on?”

He takes a loaded inhale, not knowing what to say, what to do, what to _think_. Youngho would never get angry at him for forgetting, he rarely gets angry at anything, point blank. That was it. Even if Youngho _were_ mad at Jaehyun for being such an incapable boyfriend, he’d never _say_ anything about it. Jaehyun closes his eyes, letting the bitterness gnaw at his heart.

“This is – ” Jaehyun breathes, quiet, but the room is even quieter. “This is too much.”

He can hear the sound of Youngho’s heart dropping to the smooth flooring, “Huh?”

 _I take it back_ , Jaehyun wants to say. _It’s me – I’m not doing enough, I’m not enough, I can’t –_

“This!” He seethes instead, tears streaking down his cheeks that Youngho is sure to interpret as angry ones. “All this! The balloons, the dinner, the gifts, _all_ the time! Every single time, I can’t – ” Jaehyun keeps his eyes trained to a particularly white balloon cramped against the corner.

It’s always been like this. Youngho loved in gifts and actions. Jaehyun loved in words and touch.

There’s always one better than the other, one that’s not enough.

“I can’t keep up.”

Youngho shakes his head, trying to rid the confusion, “You… you don’t like it?”

Jaehyun makes a strangled noise, hands flying up to grip at his arms, trying to keep himself from crying, “I _don’t_ – I – I don’t know what to do for you in return, and it’s just too many things, and too many gifts, and it just makes me feel like absolute _shit_ , and I just – ”

“Hey, hey, stop, don’t say that,” Youngho covers the distance between them immediately. He reaches out to take Jaehyun by the hands again, but Jaehyun doesn’t budge, so he leaves them on his shoulders. “I don’t understand, Jae. Where’s all this coming from?”

Another fat tear teeters off the edge of Jaehyun’s waterline, but Youngho ignores it in efforts of keeping Jaehyun’s gaze.

“I do all this because I _love_ you,” Youngho’s voice is steady. Jaehyun doesn’t trust his own. “Not because I’m expecting something in return – _never_ because I’m expecting something in return. I love you, Jaehyun, you shouldn’t have to feel like you have to give me – ”

“But I do!” Jaehyun’s voice cracks from start to finish. He tries to step away, but Youngho’s hold has him rooted to the ground, brows furrowing as he continues, “I do, I _have_ to, because I love you, and I want you to be treated the way – I can’t – ”

“Okay, then – ”

“But it’s not enough!” Jaehyun is near hysterical, emotions running high.

It happens far too often whenever he got too stressed, too wound up. Youngho was always his anchor. Jaehyun doesn’t know what he’s doing.

He can still feel the leftover mocha powder on his shirt and the fifteen-page essay on orchestral history that he has to complete edged in his brain, but all he can think about is how he wished he had nothing else to do just so he could love Youngho the way he wanted to, the way Youngho _deserved_.

“I – I’m not enough, I don’t – ”

“Stop saying that,” Youngho pleads, moving to pull him into a hug. Jaehyun’s tears stain the collar of Youngho’s nice dress shirt, and he cries even harder. Youngho, who never wore anything but pullovers and sweatpants, dressed up for tonight. “Don’t say that, why are you saying that? You’re enough, you’re _more_ than enough, Jaehyun, don’t – don’t cry, please don’t... Why are you crying?”

_I can’t live up to your expectations._

Jaehyun plants both his palms on Youngho’s chest, pushing him away with the little energy he has left. He doesn’t know why he’s even pushing Youngho away, he just wants it to be known that he feels terrible, but his mind works differently and Youngho lets him widen the gap between them.

The guilt, the shame, the _regret_. All negative forms of such emotion can’t compare to how _stupid_ Jaehyun feels. It’s just too much, everything is too much, and he can’t think, and he needs a break, and he needs to figure out what he can _do_ –

“I’m sorry.”

Youngho’s arms drop from where he was reaching for Jaehyun, “What?”

He swipes at the tear tracks that had so quickly dried up, clearing his throat, “I just need to think. About everything.”

“Jaehyun – ” Youngho clenches his hand into a fist, and Jaehyun knows it’s a tell-tale sign he’s repressing the anger rising. “What are you saying? What’s gotten into you? Why’re you all over the place today? Just tell me, we can sort it out, Jaehyun, we – ”

“I want to take a break – I – ”

Youngho steps forward, “Okay, then we don’t have to go out tonight, we can just stay home and – ”

“No,” Jaehyun curls his fingers into his shirt,

“I mean us. I want a break from us.”

The silence has never been louder.

Jaehyun regrets it the moment the words leave his lips.

 _No_ , he doesn’t _want_ a break, he doesn’t need it, he just wants Youngho to know how sorry he is for being so busy, for always being so absent-minded, for everything he can’t do.

He’s never pushed Youngho away before.

Youngho’s eyes are so far hurt more than anger and it pains Jaehyun to see it, “You want to break up… because I love you?”

“No!” Jaehyun surges forward, grappling with the sleeves of Youngho’s shirt, trying to say something, _do_ anything to try and eat his words. He blinks to clear his mind, but the tears only succeed in blurring his vision. “No, not break _up_ , I don’t want to break up, I – I don’t know – ”

Jaehyun’s head pounds. He still has an assignment worth half his grade due tonight and another shift tomorrow morning at the break of dawn. All he wants is to lie down, not deal with some unnecessary fight that he brought upon himself. He wants Youngho to hold him, to stop looking like Jaehyun is giving up just because he’s wrung tight and stressed out, because he’s _not_ , he’s not giving up, there’re just too many things he can’t do for Youngho, as much as he wants to, as much as he wants to do and _give_ and –

Youngho stumbles back, out of Jaehyun’s grasp, and even the miss of fabric under Jaehyun’s fingertips forces a pathetic hiccup up his throat, “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about Jaehyun, I’m – if you want me to leave, I’ll leave – ”

Despite begging his motor skills to work, Jaehyun is frozen to the bone.

Youngho is _leaving_ all because he can’t think of the right words to say, the right things to do.

All he manages is a broken whisper,

“Please don’t be mad, please, _please_ – I don’t know what – ”

“Okay. Stop me.”

Jaehyun clamps his mouth shut.

“Stop me from leaving, Jaehyun.”

When he fails to move, Youngho curses under his breath, at a loss.

He darts to the coat closet for a jacket, frantically shrugging it on as he speaks to the ground with words meant for Jaehyun, “I thought we wanted the same things. Why are you – I thought – I don’t know what to think, I thought – ”

 _We do! We do, Youngho,_ Jaehyun wants to say. His lips don’t part. _I just feel – I feel worthless._

“I don’t know what you want anymore.”

 

When Youngho leaves, it’s only because Jaehyun doesn’t stop him. He hovers by the door for a good half a minute more, waiting, _waiting_ , for Jaehyun to stop him from leaving, but Jaehyun doesn’t. He doesn’t, because he’s too busy curling up into himself, wondering, why, why, _why_ is he being this way? Of all days, of all nights, how did he let his insecurities pile up so far high in him that even breathing seemed infeasible? How did it fester so deep in him that he can barely make out the words he wants to say, _I’m sorry, it’s just because I love you_ , when did he have trouble telling Youngho just that?

When Youngho leaves, the roast and handmade mashed potatoes are lukewarm. Jaehyun cries, _of course_ , and he cries, because he’s let Youngho down _again_ and there’s nothing he can do about it now. He sinks into one of the dining chairs, lips trembling and knees shaking as he goes, phone clutched tight in a clammy hand. The sobs don’t stop even as he speed dials his boyfriend, trying and trying and trying to amend his mistakes.

When Youngho leaves, he ignores all of Jaehyun’s calls and texts and voicemails. Jaehyun needs to hear Youngho’s voice, and he needs to say what’s truly on his mind, but the calls don’t go through. By the end of a half hour, Youngho’s phone is promptly shut off and Jaehyun numbly wonders where Youngho would go; to Doyoung’s, his best friend’s? To Hansol’s, his co-worker’s? To Ten’s, his ex’s? He tries to stab the guilt away with a fork, driving the dull spikes into a specially sogged carrot, failing to find it in himself to have even just a bite of the dinner Youngho’d prepared for them.

Everything hurts, and there’s only so many tears a bowl of mashed potatoes can hold.

 

x

 

Youngho’s gone to stay with Doyoung and his boyfriend, Taeyong.

Jaehyun learns this a week after their supposed fight, a week of radio silence, a week of cold beds and even colder mornings.

It’s painful waking up without Youngho. Without his smile, his laugh, his kisses. Jaehyun thinks he might’ve cried for a week straight, body completely rid of hydration. He hasn’t really eaten, hasn’t really slept, hasn’t really done anything. Though, he manages to crank out the final paragraphs of his orchestral assignment through hours of crying, not giving a care for his final grade, and he still goes to work, pale, and tired, and just completely out of it.

The apartment isn’t big, but without Youngho, it’s _hollow_.

He tries Youngho’s phone again and again, tries to get an answer, tries to get a _Hey, babe_ , tries anything, everything, but all he gets is nothing. Youngho hasn’t been going to classes since most of them are project-based seminars with non-mandatory attendance requirements, but that doesn’t stop Jaehyun from jogging across campus in hopes of bumping into him.

There are, however, still traces of signs that Youngho’s been back to the apartment. Whenever Jaehyun returns from a long shift or a tiring lecture, the dishes that’d been piled up would’ve been magically cleared, the laundry would’ve been in their dryer cycle, the fridge stocked with food.

It _frustrates_ Jaehyun. He knows it’s his fault, that everything could’ve so easily been avoided, but how could Youngho do this to him? Simply _ignore_ him like they were nothing? Like they weren’t lovers? Are they even lovers anymore?

Jaehyun knows he’s in the wrong, but he just wants Youngho back.

 

Four days after, Jaehyun cleans up enough for Taeyong’s birthday party. The invitation was dealt a long time ago, and Jaehyun had planned a day off from work and, at the time, wondered if he could convince Youngho to skip out on the party and stay in bed instead.

Fat chance that was going to happen tonight.

So, he showers and puts on clean clothes, a massive feat considering how he’d spent the last hundred hours in the same shirt and sweatpants.

Four hours after he’s arrived at Taeyong’s party, gift in hand and the fakest smile plastered, Jaehyun tries to catch a glimpse of Youngho, but alas. Not a strand of his black hair or a flash of his smooth skin. Like a predator on a hunt, he waits by the kitchen with a good vantage point of the main guest area with a drink that’d been shoved towards him (some sort of jungle juice concoction, courtesy of Yuta).

Four drinks after, Jaehyun is tipsy. He feels a little light and the tips of his fingers are buzzing. Are they supposed to be doing that? Have they cut the cake? When did he finish this drink? Is this even his drink? Is that Youngho?

Jaehyun squints, and it really doesn’t do anything to help because he’s straight up _drunk_ , but he tries anyway.

It _is_ Youngho.

But he’s not alone.

There’s another boy, maybe half a head shorter than he is, with a bright smile and a hand on Youngho’s forearm.

Jaehyun’s blood _boils_.

They’re fighting and Youngho’s gone off with some other person without a care?

Jaehyun knows, _oh_ , he’s the first to point out that Youngho would _never_ do anything like this. They are in love, and Youngho would never do anything to hurt Jaehyun if he could help it.

But…

Shouldn’t Youngho be concerned with him right now? Shouldn’t Youngho be worried about him as Jaehyun was for Youngho? Shouldn’t Youngho be here talking to him, not over there talking to someone else? Was he still _that_ mad?

_I want him here. I want him back._

With little sanity left in him, Jaehyun stalks over, wasted,

“Youngho.”

Jaehyun’s gripping the cup so hard he thinks he might puncture the plastic, “I want to talk to you.”

Youngho’s smile fades. A smile that was meant for someone _else_. He masks the shock of Jaehyun’s presence fairly easily, eyes hardening in the next second.

Met with no movement, Jaehyun looks pointedly at the shorter boy, “Alone. Now.”

Youngho starts to shake his head, “I don’t think – ”

“Please,” Jaehyun grits his teeth. The pressure behind his eyes builds quickly. He’s going to cry right here, right now, if Youngho keeps this up. He can’t. He just _can’t_.

“I need to talk to you.”

_What are you doing standing here? I want you with me._

It’s pity, maybe, “Okay.”

Jaehyun expects Youngho to take him by the hand, as he always does, but Youngho doesn’t this time. The nausea in Jaehyun’s throat doubles, but he follows obediently, giving the stranger a glare before trailing behind Youngho as he manoeuvres up the stairs.

The room they enter is dim and neat and clear of rubbish and without a doubt Taeyong’s room. Jaehyun closes the door behind him, and Youngho spins on his heels, arms folded across his chest, expectant,

“What’s up?”

The simplicity of it drives the sadness out of Jaehyun, replacing it with anger.

Why is Youngho speaking as if they were discussing the weather? He was talking to _Jaehyun_ , his estranged boyfriend of seven days, very obviously hurting and very visibly upset, and the best he gets is _What is_ up _?_

… Or did Jaehyun not matter anymore?

“Stop talking to that boy.” Jaehyun hears himself. Spiteful and unwarranted, ruled in the dark.

That’s not what he wanted to say.

Youngho’s eyes dart to the jungle juice in Jaehyun’s hand, then up at his cheeks. It’s terribly obvious, Jaehyun’s never held his alcohol well.

He wasn’t a good drunk either.

“How many of those have you had?”

Jaehyun frowns at the lack of acknowledgement, “I said stop talking to that boy. I don’t like it.”

Youngho sighs, shoulders slumping, “You’re drunk.”

“Am not.”

Without warning, Youngho plucks the drink from Jaehyun’s hand, giving it a whiff. He recoils at the disgusting mix of cheap vodka, cheap wine, and some dollar store rendition of orange powder mix that’s probably already expired.

“Who are you here with?” Youngho asks, tone formal. Jaehyun’s anger bubbles. “Where’s your party buddy?”

“It’s you.” Oh, jungle juice. “I came here with you. You’re my boyfriend. I’m with you.”

Youngho runs a hand through his hair, brows seemingly perpetually furrowed, “You’re _really_ drunk.”

“I am not!” Jaehyun is indignant. His knees wobble. “Stop saying that I am.”

“Okay.” The hard glare Youngho gives is startling. He was expecting Youngho’s eyes to soften. “What do you want me to say?”

Jaehyun swallows thickly, completely out of it, “That you’ll stop talking to that boy.”

“Why?”

 _What?_ “You know why.”

Youngho leaves the half cup full of jungle juice on Taeyong’s impeccably clean desk, “No, I really don’t.”

Jaehyun’s breathing quickens. The tears are just a push away from falling, _why, why, why,_ “I said I don’t like it.”

“What _do_ you like?” Youngho counters.

Here it comes, the deep waters.

Youngho stands straighter, shoulders wider. Jaehyun tries to look away, but Youngho isn’t having any of it,

“Because I don’t know what you like. Or what you want... I thought I did, I thought I knew, but it seems like I don’t anymore. Do you – do you even want me anymore?”

Jaehyun bites on his lower lip, chest constricting, eyes watering, _Please stop,_ “Youngho – ”

“And now you’re trying to tell me you – you think I’m – that you think I’m off _flirting_ when we’re – when you – ” Youngho exhales loudly. Disappointed more than anything. “Why should I – why should I bother when it’s _too much_ for you?”

“Stop,” Jaehyun balls his hands into fists, clenching tight enough for his knuckles to pop. “Don’t say that. You’re just – ”

“You said it yourself,” Youngho interjects. He takes another deep breath, supposedly calming himself down, “I don’t want to talk about this when you’re drunk. We can do this another day – ”

_Another day? I don’t think I can last another day._

“Why are you making this so difficult?” Jaehyun accuses with a shaky voice. Without the cup in his hand, he resolves to digging his fingers into the flesh of his palm. Just tight enough to bite. “Stop – stop saying I’m drunk, I just want you to – to stop talking to him. Why are you making things so – so difficult?”

Youngho doesn’t flinch, “Fine. I won’t talk to him, if that’s all that matters to you.”

_What?_

He moves to brush past Jaehyun, but, even in his maxed-out state, Jaehyun yanks his fuming boyfriend by the elbow, “Stop it.”

“What now?”

Jaehyun’s ears are burning. Why is Youngho _being_ like this? He’s never been this angry, never been this stubborn. If it weren’t for the ridiculous amount of alcohol in Jaehyun, things might’ve gone differently.

“Talk to me.”

Youngho takes a deep breath, “Why?”

“What do you mean ‘Why?’” Jaehyun pulls his hand away, exasperation taking over, losing the will, “Do I have to spell everything out for you?”

“Apparently you do.” Stone cold. Jaehyun blinks back a fresh set of tears. “Because I don’t know what you want me to do anymore, I – ”

The rope snaps.

“I want you to _love_ me, Youngho! Stop – stop ignoring me – I can’t – ”

“I do!” Youngho cracks then, facade breaking. Jaehyun flinches out of surprise, and Youngho’s shoulders tighten. “Of course I do! I do _–_ but _you_ ,” he laughs, bitter, “you said it was too much. What? You didn’t want it anymore, and now you _suddenly_ do?” The smile is painful to look at, “I’m trying to give you what you want. Giving you the space you want. You’re the one yanking me around, Jaehyun.”

He can barely think, “I know you’re doing this just to hurt me – “

It’s disbelief in Youngho’s eyes, “ _I’m_ hurting you? By what? Trying to love you? Trying to give you what you want?”

“That’s not what I want, Youngho – I – ” Jaehyun rushes forward to grab Youngho by the front of his shirt. He wishes so hard Youngho’d just _stop, hold me again, I want you to hold me again_.

“I want you,” the words are gurgled, and Jaehyun knows it himself how far gone he is. He pushes a hand up to cup Youngho’s cheek, “I – stop being mad, don’t be mad anymore, I want it back, I want everything back, I want _you_.”

At the touch, Youngho’s mask falls completely. Eyes warm and cheeks fluffy, Jaehyun forces a sob down his gut. He knows it’s all an act, knows it’s just Youngho’s own defences, his own way of coping.

_I miss you._

Youngho starts to peel Jaehyun’s fingers off his shirt and his face, hands cold, “You’re drunk, Jaehyun, this isn’t fair to you, let’s not do this – ”

“Stop it!” Jaehyun fights back to pull at Youngho’s shirt again, forcing Youngho close and closer until his cheek is cushioned by a firm chest. “Stop pushing me away, it – don’t ignore me, it _hurts_ , I can’t take it, so – don’t ignore me anymore – just, stop – I didn’t mean it –  I didn’t – don’t – ”

Youngho rests his hands over Jaehyun’s, but he makes no move to get them off him this time, “I’m – it’s not – ”

“You are,” Jaehyun buries his nose into Youngho, pushing against him until their bodies are flush. It’s been too long. Jaehyun melts into Youngho’s curves, “I don’t care if you’re doing it because you’re angry, or if you’re punishing me, whether you know you’re doing it or not, I don’t – ”

“Jaehyun, I am _not_ punishing you, what are you – ”

“It feels like you don’t care anymore – when you ignore me, it’s too much, _please_ , I know you’re angry, but I want you to care, Youngho, you can’t just – you _have_ to care – how could you not – ”

Youngho closes his eyes, “Jaehyun…”

His head snaps up so quick the crick is amplified in the dark, “Hold me.”

Youngho’s hands remain firmly put.

“Kiss me,” Jaehyun is delirious. He smooths his hands upwards to grab Youngho by the shoulders, for seductive or stability reasons, he isn’t entirely sure either. “Love me. Come home with me, _stay_ with me. I can’t – ” he heaves, “I can’t wake up without you again. It hurts, everything – everything hurts – I – I want you to come back. Take me back.”

He tumbles forward to try and press his lips to Youngho’s, but the taller boy dodges with ease, frown lines deepening when Jaehyun fails to hide the pathetic whimper that escapes. Another sob is about to break through when Youngho finally, _finally_ , takes him into a hug and Jaehyun loses all feeling in his legs.

Youngho presses a kiss onto Jaehyun’s hair, and with a sigh, “I could never stay mad at you.”

Jaehyun grips tight onto Youngho’s shoulders, “You did. You did for a _week_. You – ”

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Youngho reasons, shifting his weight from leg to leg to keep Jaehyun from sinking to the ground. “I didn’t know what you wanted, and I was so… confused, it was so sudden. I didn’t know if you wanted me to keep loving you. If you wanted me to keep trying. You didn’t stop me from leaving.”

It pains Jaehyun to hear,

“I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

Jaehyun struggles to push himself off Youngho, ignoring his boyfriend’s hesitance and objection to bring their lips together, messy and a little painful. Youngho allows Jaehyun to pour his heart into the kiss, trying to convey everything in his mind to the touch of their lips, but even Jaehyun knows that they’ll be needing words when morning comes.

When Youngho tries to pull away, Jaehyun refuses to let him move even an inch further, following with every step.

“Jaehyun,” Youngho is firm, gently dislodging Jaehyun’s fingers off his shoulder blades. “Jaehyun, you’re drunk, I don’t want to –”

“I’m not,” he argues, fumbling to get Youngho back under him. “I’m not, I’m not, I’m – ”

“I’m taking you home, Jae,” Youngho says resolutely. Jaehyun simmers under the sound of Youngho coming home, the sound of them going home together. Together. “I – I don’t want anything else to happen, okay? You’re obviously not in the right mind to be – doing anything.”

Jaehyun doesn’t answer, but instead, “Take me home.”

Youngho lets go of Jaehyun (with much more struggling) in favour of picking the jungle juice back up, holding the door open with his foot. He runs a hand through his hair, and Jaehyun’s eyes follow the way the flop back against his forehead.

“C’mon,” Youngho mumbles, letting Jaehyun out of the room first.

Jaehyun shuffles out of the room, a little shaky on his feet, and he waits by the hallway for Youngho to shut the door and lead the way towards the stairs.

The sight of Youngho’s broad shoulders, of the little hairs on Youngho’s nape, of the silver earring on Youngho’s lobe… Jaehyun reaches to tug on the sleeve of Youngho’s shirt, halting the taller boy in his advance down the flight of stairs.

Youngho turns, blinking twice, “Can you walk?”

Jaehyun keeps silent, not wishing to lie, not wishing to let Youngho go.

“C’mere,” Youngho sighs, extending his free hand out for Jaehyun to take. And when he does, Youngho laces their fingers together, tugging Jaehyun close. “Let’s get out of here.”

It’s only a single step down that Jaehyun is rooted to the ground again, right hand propped against the wall to hold himself up as Youngho twists to look up at him in consternation.

Jaehyun sucks in a deep breath. The touch of Youngho’s palm against his ignites an ember in him,

“I love you.”

Youngho’s lips part into a tiny ‘oh’ before it disappears, replaced with a soft smile, “I love you too.”

Jaehyun’s heart thuds with guilt. Youngho has always been too good for him.

“I miss you,” Jaehyun’s eyes beeline for Youngho’s lips, full and plush and he’s missed Youngho. “I love you.”

Youngho does nothing but laugh, quiet, “You’re so wasted, Jae, I – ”

“I mean it,” Jaehyun squeezes Youngho’s hand tight. “I mean it, I love you, I – ”

As if Jaehyun’s mind had been laid out bare, Youngho tips forward to lock their lips together again, just for a second before he’s pulling away. Jaehyun’s eyes cross as he tries to focus on the bridge Youngho’s nose. He’s given another peck, and his cheeks light aflame when Youngho mumbles against his lips,

“I believe you. I love you.”

 

The moment the door to their apartment is shut, Jaehyun pushes Youngho against the adjacent wall, hands diving under Youngho’s sweater immediately. Youngho indulges for a good half a minute in hopes of coaxing Jaehyun to calm down.

“Jaehyun, let’s just get you to bed – ”

“Want,” Jaehyun stammers, feeling the rush of adrenaline go straight to his groins. It’s been a while since he’s had Youngho like this, since he’s touched Youngho like this, since he’s touched Youngho at all,

“I want you.”

Youngho’s hold on his wrists are steady, pausing Jaehyun in the midst of his perusal, “Not tonight, okay? I don’t want to do anything while you’re like this, and I think we should talk some more in the morning, so – ”

Jaehyun counters, pushing his hips against Youngho’s and revelling in the way Youngho has to gnaw on his lip to keep a moan in, “No, I – I want it tonight.” He whines when Youngho moves to leave a gap between them, holding Jaehyun at an arm’s length apart, “ _Youngho_ – I want – ”

“Not tonight.” The hallway is dark and Jaehyun is bumping into the walls periodically, but Youngho seems intent on getting them to the bedroom without flipping the lights on. “Let’s just get you into bed, okay?”

“Why not?” Jaehyun hooks his legs around Youngho’s, trying to get him to stop walking but it barely has any effect. “Why not? Why not?”

“Because you’re drunk, Jaehyun,” Youngho sighs, having gone back to this argument again. He kicks the door open, “I’m not going to fuck you while you’re drunk, neither am I going to do _anything_ while we’re in the middle of a fight, okay, so – ”

Jaehyun pulls with all of his body weight suddenly, catching Youngho off guard and forcing him to lose balance, staggering to keep his feet on the ground, “We’re still fighting?”

“I mean – ”

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” Jaehyun is back to pleading, itching to jump into Youngho’s arms. His entire body feels like it’s on flames and all he wants is Youngho’s touch to put it out. “I don’t want – I don’t – I don’t want – ” he slights Youngho back until the back of his knees hit the bed,

“Don’t leave.”

Youngho loosens his grip, and Jaehyun doesn’t wait to take advantage, climbing into Youngho’s lap and taking his cheeks in his hands,

“Don’t leave.”

“I’m not going to leave, I – ”

“Then don’t say we’re fighting,” Jaehyun knows how stupidly poignant it sounds. “I don’t like it when we fight – don’t say that we are – ”

“Okay, we’re _not_ fighting,” Youngho nods slowly, as if he were speaking to a child. “But I still want to talk in the morning, okay? So – ”

“Why?” Jaehyun challenges, weakening when Youngho shifts to lie them both on the bed, focused on getting him to lie down and hopefully get some rest. He hooks his arms around Youngho’s neck and his legs around Youngho’s waist, wriggling close. “We’re not fighting anymore.”

Youngho slumps against the duvet, perplexed. His nose twitches at the stench of alcohol.

What Jaehyun wants, Youngho would love to give.

Not tonight.

“What you said the other day,” Youngho starts, eyeing Jaehyun to make sure he wasn’t about to zonk out. “About me doing too much, I can’t – ”

“I didn’t mean it,” Jaehyun interjects, thumbing the shell of Youngho’s ear, fiddling with his earring.

Youngho doesn’t believe it even for a second, “Let’s talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

He props himself onto his elbows, shaking Jaehyun off a little too roughly, causing the younger boy to flop unceremoniously against the bed.

Jaehyun works through the haze of his drunkenness, tugging at Youngho’s bicep, latching his lips onto whatever he can get, “Don’t leave.”

Youngho ignores him, edging forward to get off the bed,

The anxiousness in Jaehyun grows, and it shows in his voice, “Don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t leave.”

“Jaehyun, I already said I’m not lea – ”

“I don’t want it anymore,” he mumbles, tugging Youngho back close. Apprehensive, Youngho keeps his distance, falling forward again only when Jaehyun sits back on his heels. He’s still tipping from side-to-side, unbeknownst to himself, blinking madly, trying to look as sober as possible. “Just sleep with me. In the same bed. Here.”

Youngho plants his feet on the ground, avoiding all eye contact, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, I – ”

“Please,” Jaehyun longs for Youngho’s arms around him, for the smell of Youngho to envelope him completely. “I – I can’t sleep without you. I – Youngho, I – I miss you, and I – I need you here.”

The words and the sight of fresh tears are enough to convince him. He never wanted to hurt Jaehyun, he just wanted to make sure they were both of relatively sound mind before making any… decisions.

Youngho sighs reluctantly, silently getting up to pull the covers apart, only to slide into it and motions for Jaehyun to join him.

Words can’t describe the relief that sinks in when the duvet is tight around them, no care for the cleanliness of their sheets. Jaehyun inches towards Youngho and tucks his hands between them, craning his neck up just the slightest for Youngho to slip his arm under the curve of his neck. They huddle close, and Jaehyun relaxes with every inhale.

       

Surprisingly, Jaehyun wakes up without a dreadful headache.

Unsurprisingly, he wakes up to an empty bed.

It’s cold and he’s still dressed in last night’s clothes, the funk of alcohol lingering, almost tattooed into his skin. He lies like that for a moment more, last night’s events replaying like a shitty movie, flashes of guilt and embarrassment thwacking him in the face every now and then.

And now, Youngho is gone again.

Jaehyun could’ve, _should’ve_ , taken a chance last night to properly patch things together again but, _no_ , he didn’t. He should’ve pushed harder, should’ve made Youngho stay the night like he promised, should’ve woken up the moment he felt the bed springs shift. Jaehyun should’ve done more.

Back to square one.

It’s several minutes after that the stickiness of his clothes begin to itch, and Jaehyun rolls out of bed to change into pyjamas. If he was going to spend the rest of the weekend moping around, he might as well be in something comfortable. Shedding the smell of last night’s mistakes, Jaehyun strips to his boxers and tosses them into the laundry hamper.

Just as he reaches for the shirt (Youngho’s) hanging off the door,

the sound of water running.

Dumbly, Jaehyun turns to eye the tap.

Someone’s outside.

Youngho is the first thing that comes to mind, and he tumbles out of the bathroom and down the hallway unsteadily, freezing in place when the light hits his eyes.

Then, a mop of black hair, sticking out in odd angles. A white shirt, and a pair of ratty blue boxers. Legs long and lanky, plodding around the kitchen barefoot, hands busy with a saucepan, grilling bacon and sausage links. Standing by the window, the sunlight pronounces the silhouette of Youngho’s slim waist, and Jaehyun wishes so hard he could just walk over and hug his boyfriend.

Should he say hello? Should he tap his foot? Should he clear his throat?

Jaehyun brings his hands together, standing shirtless by the kitchen counter as he waits for Youngho to notice his presence.

It takes a minute,

Youngho nearly lets the pan slip from his hands when he turns to find Jaehyun motionless, and,

“You’re shirtless.”

He grins as if the last week never happened.

Having met with no response, Youngho shuffles forward to leave the freshly made breakfast onto the rubber trivet in the middle of their dining table. Jaehyun remains silent, having trouble finding the words to say, the things to do, so he waits until Youngho is done busying with the table setting, until Youngho is looking up at him, a small smile on his face.

“Good morning,” he says first, moving to pull a chair out. Jaehyun sits robotically, feeling his breathing shallow when Youngho takes the place next to his. “You should have something,” Youngho hums, plating a scoop of scrambled eggs and several slices of bacon for him. With a laugh, “You were really drunk last night… you probably forgot most of it, huh?”

It’s light and easy.

Youngho is trying to sweep things under the rug. Jaehyun wanted nothing but that.

He wanted Youngho to know how he truly felt, how sorry he was, how much he wanted things back together again. Them, back together again.

Hoarse, “I – I remember everything.”

Youngho stills, fork waving in mid-air. He doesn’t look up to meet Jaehyun’s eyes.

Jaehyun gulps, “Youngho, about last night, about everything, are you – are you still mad?”

“I said I wasn’t,” Youngho answers quietly, regaining control of his limbs and piling food for himself.

Not good enough.

“Did you say that because you just wanted to get me back home?” Jaehyun pushes. He doesn’t give the breakfast a second glance. “Because I _am_ sorry, Youngho, I – I’m sorry I said what I said, I don’t know why – ”

“Jaehyun,” he sighs, resting his fork against the table. Jaehyun quietens. Youngho reaches out for his hands, trembling and cold, looking up at last, “Don’t apologise anymore, okay? I’m at fault too, so let’s just – ”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Jaehyun rushes to say. “I – I went overboard. I shouldn’t have told you – that you were too much, because you’re _not_ , and – not to speak to that guy, it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you, I just – I just wanted you with me – and I shouldn’t have forced you to come home with me if you didn’t want to – ”

Youngho interrupts, pressing his thumb into the dip of Jaehyun’s palm, “You didn’t force me to come home with you. I wanted to come home too.”

Jaehyun breathes, “You did?”

“Yeah.” Youngho admits, “I missed you. Of course, I wanted to come home.”

Silence,

“Why didn’t you?”

Jaehyun sits on the edge of his seat, heartbeats away from climbing into Youngho’s lap, “Why didn’t you come back? I was – I was waiting for you, and I – I called you, I tried to find you – but you – ”

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to come back, Jae,” Youngho mutters, jaw hardening. “After – after that night, I was – scared, I didn’t know – what if you wanted to end things? I didn’t want to come back just to lose you, I couldn’t risk that, I couldn’t – I didn’t want you to leave, and – ”

“I’ll never leave,” Jaehyun affirms. “I’ll never leave, so don’t – ”

Youngho tilts back into his own seat, and, unwilling to lose the contact, Jaehyun gets up and onto Youngho’s lap, indifferent to the squeak the chair makes under their combined weight. Youngho accepts him, holding onto Jaehyun’s hips, the contact of skin on skin already building a fire in Jaehyun.

“About what you said, that night, I – ”

“I was just overwhelmed,” Jaehyun says before Youngho can even form the thought. He circles his arms around Youngho’s neck, holding him close. Touch, touch, _touch_. “I just felt so guilty that I can’t do what you do for me,” Youngho starts to object, but Jaehyun shushes him, pressing his index finger to his boyfriend’s lips, “I know, I _know_ it’s not a contest, but I just want you to know how much I love you, and it just makes me feel so… lost, not knowing how to do that.”

“I get that,” Youngho lets out a long exhale. “But I know you love me, Jaehyun, because I love you too. And I do all those things because it makes me feel good doing them, I like taking care of you, y’know?”

The blood in Jaehyun’s heart surges.

“But if it makes you feel bad, I can – ”

Jaehyun shakes his head, “No, I – I just – I love you, and I love it when you care, and – I don’t want anything between us to change. I want you, all of you, anything, everything.”

There’s still a hint of hesitation, of doubt, of worry, obvious in Youngho’s eyes and Jaehyun thinks he can kiss it away, so he does, careful not to tip them too far backwards. Youngho returns the kiss, hands heavy on Jaehyun’s hips, weighing him down.

“I’m sorry I – didn’t come home,” Youngho manages when Jaehyun moves his kisses further down the curve of his jaw, intentions clear, having barred from doing so the night before. “I wasn’t trying to _punish_ you, Jaehyun, I was just – I should’ve – ”

“You’re here now,” Jaehyun breathes against Youngho’s skin, dragging his palms over Youngho’s chest. “It hurt, not having you with me, but you’re here now,” he sucks earnestly at a comfortable spot on the side of Youngho’s neck, high enough for everyone to see. When he pulls away, the red-pink bruise blooms, dark enough to be noticed even from miles away. “And I want you,” Jaehyun is confident in his desires. Youngho knows best. “I – I miss you. I miss you so much.”

Youngho groans when Jaehyun grinds his hips forward expertly, tightening his hold just above the jut of Jaehyun’s hipbones.

Sometimes, Jaehyun just needed Youngho’s touch. Like a safe hold, and Youngho would never deny Jaehyun of that.

“Bed,” Jaehyun instructs, sensing Youngho’s easy compliance, and he clings tight when Youngho grabs him by the underside of his thighs, hoisting him upwards. He hooks his legs around Youngho’s waist, sucking kisses into Youngho’s neck as the taller boy stumbles them back into their bedroom. Youngho’s gait is unsteady, but they make it there unharmed nevertheless.

Once Jaehyun’s back hits the bed, he goes straight for Youngho’s shirt, tugging it up and off his person.

“Excited?” Youngho has it in him to tease.

“ _Yes_ ,” Jaehyun grits, drawing Youngho back down, lining their crotches together. He bucks upwards, demanding for more. Youngho groans and, together, they manoeuvre out of their remaining clothes, accomplishing it in double the time than that if they weren’t so distracted by each other’s lips.

“What do you want me to do?” Youngho murmurs, already pinning Jaehyun down by the wrists, returning the marks Jaehyun’d given him with his very own.

Jaehyun can’t think straight, attention zeroed in on Youngho bruising him deliciously, back arching off the bed and moaning when the tip of his dick brushes against Youngho’s.

“Touch me,” Jaehyun gasps, digging his fingers into Youngho’s arms. “Fuck me, whatever, just – you,” Youngho bites down, and Jaehyun whines, “Need you.”

Youngho grunts, moving away to clumsily dig through their bedside table. Jaehyun occupies himself with Youngho’s chest hover over his face, kissing and licking along the faint lines, grinning when Youngho shivers at his easy ministrations. When he returns, Youngho is already coating his fingers generously. He tosses the bottle aside, leaning forward to kiss Jaehyun as he warms it up quickly.

“Hurry,” Jaehyun whispers, letting his legs fall open even wider to accommodate Youngho, who listens, pressing the tip of his fingers to Jaehyun’s entrance. “ _Oh_ – Youngho, _mm_ – ”

The first finger goes in without much resistance,

“Touch yourself recently?”

Jaehyun blushes to his toes. Youngho would know, Youngho knows him better than he knows himself.

“Yes,” he admits, too far gone with just one finger to be concerned with his pride. “Wanted to feel you,” he shuts his eyes, unable to look at Youngho’s dark eyes, too focused on him. “Missed you. Pretended it was you, holding me – _fucking_ me – but – I wanted _you_ – ”

Youngho brings their lips together harshly and adds another finger simultaneously, sending Jaehyun straight to the heavens and back. He feels the corners of his eyes prickle at the stretch, but the burn is so _good_ that he can’t help but cry into Youngho’s mouth, begging for more.

Jaehyun feels his legs start to lose strength, heels slipping from where they were initially driven into the bed. He urges Youngho for another finger, ready to get prep over and done with, nodding into the kiss when Youngho teases the edge of his prostate.

“ _Youngho_ – ” he chokes up, releasing his grip on Youngho’s arms to clutch at the pillow under his head, back curving and hips twisting to try get Youngho’s fingers where he wants them to be. “Don’t – tease – ”

Tough luck, “How badly do you want it, baby?”

Jaehyun jerks his hips downwards, failing to catch Youngho off-guard, “Bad, bad, _bad_. I – I want it, Youngho, I want you, _pl – ease_ – ”

“Me or my fingers?”

Youngho presses hard against his prostate then, and Jaehyun fights a full-body shudder, near _screaming_ ,

“You! You, _you_ , I want – you – don’t – I – ”

Without warning, Youngho pulls his fingers out completely, and Jaehyun’s legs threaten to close at the sudden movement, desperate to keep them in him. He lies panting, watching through half-lidded eyes as Youngho slicks himself up, hissing loudly at his own touch. Jaehyun spreads his legs more, lifting his hips up naturally for Youngho, who grabs him by the hips with sticky hands.

He lets out a whimper of anticipation when Youngho lines himself to Jaehyun, heaving at the heat pressed against his entrance. Youngho moves to hold onto his thigh, pushing in unbelievably slow. The nerves in Jaehyun’s legs are too frazzled to work, leaving no choice but to let Youngho set the pace, already blissed out from just Youngho’s fingers.

Youngho fucks him with languid thrusts, and Jaehyun’s eyes roll to the back of his head whenever his prostate is brushed dead-on. He moans for Youngho to speed up, to fuck him harder, to do _more_ , but Youngho insists on taking his time, fucking gently.

Jaehyun closes his eyes, lips parting in pure ecstasy as the feeling of Youngho fucking him slow take over his senses. He yanks at the corners of the pillow, crying high-pitched as he feels his back move along the sheets and a pair of lips mouthing at his knee, sending him up the wall.

He exhales in part relief when Youngho starts to speed up, but the angle he’s going at is so _deep_ that Jaehyun loses his mind, unable to do anything but clench around Youngho with every thrust. It only serves to spur the older boy on, and Jaehyun does everything he can to release his grip on the pillow to reach out for Youngho instead, calling him closer with a loud moan. So, Youngho goes, rocking harder and shallower into Jaehyun now that they’re pressed very nearly flushed, aiming right where it’s perfectly good for the both of them.

The kiss they share is more tongue than kiss, but Jaehyun tries his best even with his orgasm creeping up so closely, panting into Youngho’s mouth and swallowing every exhale.

Youngho slams _hard_ into Jaehyun with a loud groan, and the feeling of him coming freely into Jaehyun is more than enough for Jaehyun to finish off too, dirtying their torsos with strings of white. His mind is still dizzying in his post-orgasmic haze, but Youngho knows him best, a hand coming between them to help Jaehyun through it. He kisses Youngho then, arms a deadweight over Youngho’s shoulders.

“I suppose you’d want to lay here some more?”

Jaehyun nods tiredly, mustering all the energy that’s left in him to hook his legs around Youngho’s back once more, intending to keep him from leaving (or pulling out).

Youngho laughs, peppering Jaehyun’s nose and cheeks with kisses, “Are you going to yell at me later for not cleaning you up?”

“No,” Jaehyun mumbles, thumbing the short hairs on Youngho’s nape. “Just stay here.”

Youngho settles on Jaehyun’s chest, caging Jaehyun with his arms, “That’s fine,” Resigned, “I already _know_ you’re going to yell at me later.”

Jaehyun doesn’t have to open his eyes to know that Youngho is pouting, “Stay.”

Quiet.

Then,

“I’m not going anywhere.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Youngho loved in giving, in planning, in time. Jaehyun loved in touch.

Oh, but Jaehyun _loved_ Youngho.

There’s never one better than the other.)

**Author's Note:**

> sorry to the curiouscat who wanted johnjae and alcohol... i'm sure this wasn't what you were going for but i couldn't do any better, i really tried, i'm sorry!! :( 
> 
> kudos + comments / criticisms are greatly appreciated ♡ feedback warmly welcomed! [twitter](https://twitter.com/jenhyungs) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/jenhyung)


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